


i've been so lost for you

by latenightcoffeetalks



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper & Toni Topaz Friendship, Bisexual Archie Andrews, Cheerleader Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom & Jughead Jones Friendship, F/F, F/M, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge Friendship, Northside Jughead Jones, Role Reversal, Southside Serpent Alice Cooper (Archie Comics), Southside Serpent Betty Cooper, apple picking!, it's not smut but it is?, jughead thinks its sexual so i wrote it sexual, just putting it out there: jughead veronica and cheryl are NOT together, or just not straight archie andrews, somewhat of a role reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightcoffeetalks/pseuds/latenightcoffeetalks
Summary: “Actually, I was never attracted to Ethel,” he says pointedly. “That was just a cover up.”“A cover up for what?”“Betty, of course.”“So you’ve been pining since elementary?” Cheryl asks.He kicks his leg up, causing Cheryl to bounce up and down. She swats him, sitting up.“I wouldn’t call it pining. It’s more like yearning.”“They mean the same thing, you nitwit.”Jughead reaches for one of Veronica’s expensive pillows, hugging it to his chest as he falls back onto the bed.“She’s wonderful, you know? She’s smart, and she’s funny. She gets my humor, which, let’s face it, is a feat in itself. And she’s gorgeous. Really fucking pretty.”“Oh, Jonsey.” Veronica strokes a lock of hair from his face. “You’ve got it bad.”Or: Cheerleader Jughead pines for Serpent Betty
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom & Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom & Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, background Cheryl Blossom/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 105
Kudos: 135
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. i wanna say you feel the same

**Author's Note:**

> i have no self control, i tell you. i've got so many wips, but i wrote this last night and couldn't resist.
> 
> cheers to janet ([easyluckyfree45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyluckyfree45/pseuds/easyluckyfree45)) because i adore you and your speedy beta-ing skills. 
> 
> title from [ anywhere you go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1zlGgFpfuM) by Clubhouse 
> 
> Enjoy, my friends!

_“Let’s, go Betty! It’ll be dark by the time we get down to the swimming hole at this rate!”_ _  
  
“Hold your horses, Jug. Doing things in the dark is so much more exciting.” _

His arm aches as he struggles to hold it straight under the pressure of Cheryl’s body weight. Her right leg goes up as her left bends along with Jughead’s arm, launching her into the air. His eyes fixate on her body as she twists, arms out ready to catch her gracefully. Unfortunately, they both miscalculate, and Cheryl ends up falling just out of his reach.

“Fuck,” she groans a minute later, lifting her head up from the soft mat. 

He winces. “Sorry, Cher.”

“You always say that,” she grumbles. She takes his offered hand anyways, pinching him tightly on the arm with her red claws.

“Ow!” He shrieks, jumping away. Cheryl laughs happily, waving an arm to signal to their other friend. 

“He dropped me, Ronnie. _Again._ ”

“Aw, mi amor.” Veronica pecks her on the lips. “You have to excuse him. He saw his favorite blonde yesterday.”

Blushing, Jughead turns away to rifle through his gym bag. 

“Oh yes, I forgot!” Cheryl squeals excitedly, disdain towards Jughead forgotten. “Did you speak to her? An actual conversation?”

Begrudgingly, he shakes his head, pulling out a towel to wipe his forehead. He stands, placing the towel around his shoulders. 

“Just longing stares across the bar again?”

Jughead glares at her. “ _No._ I don’t know how this idea formed in your pea sized brains, but I don’t like--”

“Maybe it was the poems we found in your notebook last year?” Veronica smirks. “Or the dried up rose that we found in your locker a week after Valentine’s Day addressed to her?”

“That’s what you say!” Jughead insists. “I’ve never confirmed anything!”

“Whatever, Jones,” Cheryl says. “Maybe you should invite her to our practices?”

“Why?” 

“Look at you! No one knows that you have a “hot bod” under your weird t-shirts and misshaped sweaters!”

“Ew,” Jughead cringes. “Please never tell me I have a “hot bod” again.”

“But you do! You have the hottest--”

“Alright, babe.” Veronica places a hand on her girlfriend’s arm. “Let’s cool it with the compliments.”

“Aw,” Cheryl coos. “Are you getting jealous?”

Picking up his bag, Jughead leaves them to their flirting. He loves his best friends, but sometimes they forget that their relationship does not include him.

Making his way to the locker rooms, his phone lights up with a text from Veronica, letting him know they’ll be waiting for him outside. Jughead laughs to himself -- he’s always the first ones out of the locker rooms. 

He’s the only male cheerleader on the squad. It used to bother him: the stares and the taunts, but he got through it with Veronica and Cheryl by his side. They’re delightfully scary when they need to be.

Betty had also written an article about it for the Blue and Gold, a couple months ago. He had joined sophomore year, but Betty transferred in their junior year from the Southside. She had started up the Blue and Gold right away, with Toni Topaz as photographer. Interviewing with her was the highlight of his year so far.

(“You said that you don’t like attention,” she had asked him. “Then why did you join the cheerleading team? You must’ve known this would clash with your loner status?”

He smiles at her calling him a loner. “I guess I wanted to do something for myself?”

“And the girls on your team -- are they accepting of you? Or do they not like a male on the team?”

“Oh, they love me.” He smirks. “I’ve won them over.”)

Though he denies his crush on Betty, his fondness for her is very blatantly obvious. They had been childhood friends, next door neighbors, until Betty had moved away to the Southside with her mother. 

He had fought for their friendship throughout middle school, but Betty had always been good at pushing people away. Especially him. 

His crush isn’t completely hopeless though. She is a bartender at the local Southside bar, The White Wyrm, and he frequents the establishment often. His excuse is that he is there for his father, making sure he got home on time, but he spends the majority of his time sneaking glances at Betty.

She looks good all the time, but bartending Betty might just be his favorite. Her hair is still in a ponytail, but not her usual tight one. It is loose, carefree -- his favorite version of Betty. She wears a tight, form fitting, low neck black t shirt, emblazoned with a white serpent on the back. The top is often accompanied by tight jeans, or (if luck was on his side) black shorts. He makes sure to order extra lemonade on those days.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. It is Friday, which means that Betty is most likely still at school working on the newspaper. He could take a shower, smell good, and subtly walk past her office until she notices him, or he could take Cheryl's suggestion, and show off his “hot bod”.

Shuddering, he steps under the cold water, quickly rinsing himself off. A little bit of both, he decides.

After a short five minutes, he redresses himself. He pulls on blue, Riverdale embellished shorts. Before he can think himself out of it, he throws on his cheer jacket, leaving it unzipped, and walks out the door. 

He does walk in front of Betty’s office, but she notices him quicker than he expected. Only 7 times across the hallway.

“Jughead?”

He turns abruptly towards the door. He was just about to turn the hallway, and he needed a way to make this look normal.

Crouching, he unlaces his shoes, feigning surprise when Betty’s head pops outside the door.

“Betty? I didn’t know you’d still be here.”

“Yeah, I’m working on the paper. Did you have practice?”

He shakes his head, standing up. Suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze, he fidgets with the zipper of his jacket. “No, not today. I was just practicing with Veronica and Cher.”

She nods understandingly. “Send them a hello from me, would you?”

“Of course.”

He’ll never admit it, but he’s seriously jealous of his best friends’ friendship with Betty. They hung out often, dragging Betty along shopping. They’ve even had a few sleepovers, and Jughead had to force himself to hang out with Archie in order to not knock the Pembrooke doors down.

He’s standing awkwardly at the end of the hallway, vaguely aware that he’s shirtless.

“So, uh, I should get back in there.” She says, pointing a finger into the office.

He nods. “Sure.”

Veronica has tried to convince him to join the Blue and Gold before, not just because of Betty, but because he does have a passion for writing. He’s been too chickenshit to ask her before, but he’s feeling confident by the way her eyes keep wandering down to his chest.

“Do you need any help?”

She looks startled by the offer. “With the newspaper?”

“Yeah, I mean, I can write. Or edit. Or whatever you need, I can do that.”

She stares at him blankly, and he opens his mouth to backtrack. It is a stupid idea anyways, it’s not like she needs the help, the paper is doing just fine. More than fine, even, it’s blooming-

“I could use some help editing, I guess.”

He nods right away, forgetting about Cheryl and Veronica. He trails after her into the office.

He’d been in here once before. He had snuck in before school, trying to muster up the courage to leave a letter he had written for Betty on her desk. He didn’t end up dropping it off; in fact, it’s probably still in the shoe box where he keeps all things related to Betty.

“Maybe you could put a shirt on? Or zip up your jacket?”

He flushes, closing the hoodie in a hurry. She nods in thanks and slides over some papers that are held together with a pink paperclip.

“This is the headline piece for next week. I was supposed to edit it today, but I got caught up in-” she trails off uncomfortably.

_Serpent business,_ his mind fills in.

He’s never minded that Betty is a Serpent. His father is one too. Sure, the Southside had some bad eggs, but that didn’t excuse the way they are treated by this town.

“I’ll look over it,” he says, filling the silence.

They sit in a nice quiet for a half hour. He’s halfway through the article when Veronica and Cheryl come barreling in.

“You should’ve texted us; we were worried!”

“You asshole, it’s raining outside!”

Jughead flinches, glancing at Betty apologetically. She sends him a smile back, in her natural Betty way.

Their friends watch the interaction closely, biting back their smiles.

“Betty!” Veronica leans over to wrap her in a hug. “We haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been?”

Betty shrugs. “Oh, you know. Around.”

She’s being purposefully vague, but Veronica doesn’t seem to notice, starting a conversation with the blonde. Cheryl walks over to him, zipping down his jacket without a warning. 

“Hey!” He whispers, rushing to pull the zipper back up. 

Cheryl smirks at him knowingly. “I see you took my advice.”

“Yeah, until she told me to put a fucking shirt on.” 

Cheryl’s eyes brighten. “She did? Oh, Jug, this is good news!”

He tilts his head questioningly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! It means she noticed, you hobo.”

“Well, obviously she noticed. I’m no Archie - I don’t usually walk around with no shirt on.”

“That’s not what I meant, obviously.”

“Betty’s coming to Pop’s with us.” Veronica announces, pulling Betty up from her seat. Betty sends him an uneasy look as Veronica leads her out of the office. 

He falls in step with her while Cheryl moves ahead to chatter with Ronnie, no doubt about him.

“You don’t have to come,” he says quietly. “I know Ronnie can be a bit much, but she’s the worst at catching tells.”

Betty giggles, and Jughead almost trips over his own steps. She _giggled._

“I’m alright, Jug. I like hanging out with you guys.”

_She likes hanging out with you._

They collectively decide to walk to Pop’s, in disfavor of Jughead.

He’s still complaining as they enter, and Cheryl sighs loudly. 

“If you don’t shut up, I’m eating this whole menu, and you’ll have to catch my ample body tomorrow morning.”

He silences himself as Veronica and Betty laugh. They seat themselves in Jughead’s regular booth, Veronica and Cheryl settling in on one side, Betty and Jughead on the other. 

A waitress comes to their table, and Jughead, Veronica, and Cheryl rattle off their usual orders. He forgets that Southsiders don’t frequent Pop’s, instead eating regularly at the White Wyrm. Betty takes her time looking through the menu.

“They have the best burgers here,” he recommends.

“I know that. I don’t live under a rock. Just on the Southside.”

She ends up ordering a strawberry milkshake and fries, and Jughead worries that’s too little. 

“She can share one of your burgers,” Veronica says slyly. “Lord knows you don’t need them.”

“I’m a growing boy,” he counters.

“Yeah, with a body you need to maintain.”

“My body is just fine!”

“I can second that,” Betty says quietly.

Jughead feels his face heat up, warmth traveling up to his ears. He’s looking everywhere but Betty, meaning at Cheryl and Veronica, who are grinning at him widely. 

He’s saved from their teasing remarks by the arrival of the food. He does end up sharing half his burger with Betty, and it’s like a dream come true watching her take the burger from his hands and daintily take a bite. She moans quietly at the taste, leaning in for another bite.

Veronica and Cheryl watch him expectantly; he never lets anyone take two bites. 

He’s surprised they don’t gasp as he reaches for another fry nonchalantly, letting Betty take two, three more bites. Really, as if he’s going to pass up the opportunity to share something with Betty.

“Thank you,” she says through a mouthful of food. He beams at her, taking the burger from her offering hands. He eagerly bites into the place where Betty had. He should feel disgusted with himself, but she’s Betty Cooper. He’s sure any guy would feel the same way in his place. 

An hour later, the conversation dwindles down. Fridays usually means boardgames at Veronica’s house, but Cheryl is conveniently feeling tired. She links hands with Veronica, and they head out the door, leaving Betty and Jughead alone. 

“I should probably get home.” She stands up from the booth. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Jughead snorts. “As if I’ll let you walk home alone.”  
  
“I’m a big girl, Jughead. I can walk myself home.” Betty frowns.

“I know that, of course. But it's the gentlemanly thing to do.”

She opens her mouth to object, but Jughead raises a hand. “Let me walk you home.”

Admitting defeat, she motions for him to follow her, leading him out the door and to the left instead of his usual right. 

The Southside of town is said to be a dangerous part of town, but with Betty, Jughead feels perfectly safe. He isn’t so insecure in his masculinity that he is against Betty protecting him -- this is her court. She knows her way around here.

He could see the difference between the two sides. He knows the mayor doesn’t do much to help the South, funding the North and it’s businesses extensively. If they put half the money, they use to make gazebos in the park into the Southside, it would make all the difference.

He remembers the trailer park Betty lives in from when they were kids. One of the things he likes about Betty is that she’s not ashamed. She’ll tell anyone who will listen that she’s from a trailer park on the Southside. 

He walks her up to her trailer, noting the broken mailbox in the front. Betty always said she liked the mailboxes on the Northside: prim and proper.

“Thank you for walking me home,” she says. 

For a moment, he thinks she’s about to invite him in. She doesn’t. He’s not sure he would know what to do if she had. 

“No biggie.” 

“Will you be alright getting home?”

“I’ll be fine, Betts.”

“Okay, well, goodnight then.”

He bids her goodnight before he can do something stupid, like kiss her, and walks quickly to Veronica’s house. If he knows his best friends, they’re in her bedroom, cooking up some sort of scheme, likely involving him. 

Hermione lets him up immediately. She’s never worried about Jughead being in Veronica’s room, even before she started dating Cheryl. Hermione was like a second mother to both Jughead and Cheryl, and the Pembrooke like a second home.

He doesn’t bother knocking, opening the door without warning. 

Veronica is on top of Cheryl, straddling the redhead. They’re in various stages of undress, Cheryl without a bra.

Veronica shrieks when Jughead comes in, covering herself immediately. Cheryl gives him a lazy thumbs up.

“You have to knock before you come in, Jughead!” 

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Cheryl nods in agreement, reaching for her bra. 

“I walked Betty home,” he says, plopping down on the bed between them. Cheryl lays down next to him, while Veronica places her head on his chest.

“Did you kiss her?” Veronica asks.

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Well, obviously.”

“So, you’ll finally admit you’ve got a crush on her?” Cheryl asks, amused. 

He sighs in defeat. “Yeah, whatever.”

Veronica sits up, squealing. “Oh, Jug, this is adorable!”

He props himself up on his elbows, Cheryl moving her head to his lap. “Why?”

“This is the first girl you’ve been attracted to since Ethel Muggs back in grade school!”

“Actually, I was never attracted to Ethel,” he says pointedly. “That was just a cover up.”

“A cover up for what?”

“Betty, of course.”

“So, you’ve been pining since elementary?” Cheryl asks.

He kicks his leg up, causing Cheryl to bounce up and down. She swats him, sitting up. 

“I wouldn’t call it pining. It’s more like yearning.”

“They mean the same thing, you nitwit.”

Jughead reaches for one of Veronica’s expensive pillows, hugging it to his chest as he falls back onto the bed. 

“She’s wonderful, you know. She’s smart, and she’s funny. She gets my humor, which, let’s face it, is a feat in itself. And she’s gorgeous. Really fucking pretty.”

“Oh, Jonsey.” Veronica strokes a lock of hair from his face. “You’ve got it bad.”


	2. feelin' alive, a teenager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a movie, this would be the time he would tell her how he feels. He should turn on his side and tell her that he thinks she’s the only thing keeping him sane in their crazy world, and how she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He should slowly grab her hand in his, and they would both secretly smile at the sky.
> 
> But it’s real life, and real life comes with uncertainty and insecurity. Betty is so far out of his league. There’s such a small chance that she could be into him as much as he’s into her, that she loves him like he loves her. The only way he could ever possibly know is if he tells her but even the thought of voicing his emotions creates a lump in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told myself I wouldn't post until i finished more chapters, but i completed chapter 2 today, sent it over to [janet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyluckyfree45/pseuds/easyluckyfree45)   
>  (the loml, I adore you, thank you so much) and decided to fuck self control. i've never heard of that before. self control? whaaaaa?
> 
> anyways! here it is! hope you enjoy, my darlings!

_“Maybe we could go to Pop’s today?”  
  
“Not today, Juggie.”_

Working with Betty is blissfully easy. 

His novel, the one he’s been working on since freshman year, is resting in a doc he hasn’t opened in months. Inspiration hasn’t been coming easy to him but working with Betty has provided him with a muse. A stunning one, at that. 

Conversation between them flowed seamlessly. They had spoken sporadically throughout the years after Betty moved, so he’s glad they can still hold a conversation

He’s grateful to be talking to Betty daily. Not just for his persistent, never ending crush, but he also misses her as a friend. Having Betty around will always be a highlight in his life.

“Cheryl told me you guys have a game next Friday?” Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts as he grabs the papers that she’s handing him.

He nods, clicking open his highlighter. “Yeah. Against Baxter, I believe.”

“Don’t tell me cheerleading has turned you into a football fan?” She teases, trapping her pen between her lips. 

_Archie’s sweaty socks_ , he repeats like a mantra in his head. 

“As if. Are you thinking of coming?”  
  
The words slip out of his mouth before he can think. She’s never been to a game in all of her years of high school. He would know; he always keeps an eye out for blonde curls falling over leather clad shoulders. 

Over the weeks they’ve reconnected, he’s been working up the nerve to ask her out. Maybe after the game, maybe before the game. Maybe during the game if she wants to skip. He’ll do just about anything for her.

“Perhaps,” she replies slyly. 

The thought of Betty watching him at the game makes him work even harder than usual at practice. Maybe he does it unconsciously because he’s startled when Cheryl snaps her towel at him.

“Jug take a break.”  
  
He looks up from his pushups, panting heavily. Unceremoniously, he drops to the ground, the lack of movement prompting the pain to course through his body.

“Shit.” He groans. 

Veronica comes to join them, fiddling with the hem of her yellow and white raglan shirt. She’s got a look in her eye, one that Jughead knows all too well.

“What did you do?” Her eyes wander to the bleachers. "What makes you think I did anything?” 

“I know you, Ronnie. Does it have anything to do with Betty? Because I told you specifically to not meddle-”

“Who,” Cheryl cuts him off, “is that?”

Jughead follows her line of sight to a short pink haired girl, one he recognizes as Toni.  
  
“That’s Toni Topaz. One of Betty’s best friends.”

“Oh,” Cheryl says simply.  
  
Toni is standing by the gym doors, waving to someone on the other side. He walks over to her, uncomfortable in his sweat soaked t-shirt. 

“Hey, Toni.”  
  
“Jones,” she greets. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get Betty to come in here,” she says.

“Betty?”

“Yup! I think Veronica invited her to watch you guys, but she’s getting shy all of a sudden.”  
  
“I am not _shy_.” Betty comes into view, stepping into the gym. “I was busy with the Blue and Gold.”  
  
“Right,” Toni teases. “I’ll be in the bleachers, appreciating the creation of women and spandex.”

Toni walks away, leaving him and Betty alone. He’s suddenly aware that he must look severely unattractive, but he refuses to waste one on one time with Betty.

“I should probably go join her,” Betty says, awkwardly shifting the books in her arms. 

He hopes the disappointment isn’t evident on his face as he nods. He’s left watching her retreating form, just like he’s done hundreds of times before. 

Veronica and Cheryl appear on either side of him, gently pulling him back to the mats. “Looked like a quality conversation,” Cheryl quips. 

He chances another glance at the possibility she might be looking at him, but she’s in deep conversation with Toni, flipping mindlessly through the pages in her book.

“You can’t even get mad at me when I drop you today,” he says, bending down to let her step onto his waiting hands.

He’s running on three cups of coffee and typing up an article in his usual booth at Pop’s when Betty slides in across from him. Her hair is damp from the storm outside, and her cheeks are rosy. She’s panting softly as if she ran here. Still, Jughead thinks, she looks as beautiful as ever. 

“Betty. To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
It’s then that he notices her red rimmed eyes, her pink nose. She’s sniffling quietly, wiping her nose with the ends of her flannel. 

“Betty, what’s wrong?”

She picks her head up, glossy eyes meeting his, and bursts into tears.

He closes his laptop quickly, moving to the other side of the booth. Without a second thought, he wraps his arm around her, gently guiding her head to his shoulder. He runs his hand through her blonde curls tenderly.

“It’s alright, Betts. It’ll be alright.”  
  
Her sniffling ceases minutes later, though it feels like hours. She keeps her face buried in his hoodie, mumbling incoherently into the cotton. 

Eventually, she moves herself somewhat off of him, but still enveloped in his arms. 

“It’s my dad,” she croaks out. “He left, and he took Polly with him.”

Afraid she’s going to start crying again, Jughead tightens his hold on her. In a different situation, Jughead would be beyond thrilled at their proximity, but he’s concerned about Betty; she’s never cried in front of him before.

“What do you mean, he left?”

“He’s _gone_. All his clothes, his CDs -- even his toolbox! And Polly-” a tear slips down her face, “Polly’s gone too. Her room is stripped, everything is gone. Even her sheets.”

He’ll be the first to say he leads a privileged life. He’s a white, upper middle-class male, and he’s straight (as far as he knows). He lives on the Northside of town, with two ideal parents and an angel of a little sister. Sure, his father has a drink or two more than he should at parties sometimes, and yeah, his sister gets into her fair share of trouble at school, but he’s never had to worry about his parents splitting up, or his dad leaving. 

“I’m so sorry, Betty,” he says. It’s all he can say. He’s not the best at comforting people (as Cheryl tells him all the time), but he’ll try his damn best for Betty. “Is there anything I can do? We can go for a drive if you want. Head down to Sweetwater River.”  
  
She shakes her head. “Can we leave Riverdale? Just get out of here?”  
  
“You want to go to Greendale? Centerville?”  
  
“Let’s just drive.”

She cracks a smile when they pass the trailer park, and she lets out a tinkling laugh when the Riverdale sign comes into view. Rolling the window down, she pops her head out, and waves her arms around. He thinks she looks beautiful.

“Jug- Juggie, stop! Stop the car!”

He pulls the car over to the side of the road, just in front of the sign. She opens the door right as the car comes to a halt, jumping out and slamming the door. He exits his own side, following her movements with his eyes. She walks to the front of the car and places her arms down on the hood. He realizes what she’s trying to do, and rushes to hop on top of the car, using the arm strength he’s gained from cheerleading over the years to gracefully push himself up. After sitting himself on the car, he reaches a hand down to help her up. She accepts it gratefully.

Jughead pulls his phone out, handing it to her. She accepts it wordlessly, unlocking his phone and going to the music app. Soft piano and guitar play from the phone and he fairly recognizes the tune as the acoustic version of some pop song that Jellybean always blasts in her room. She lowers the volume to background music, placing the phone between them. She places her hands on the back of her head, lowering herself down onto the car. He joins her, stripping his jacket off and laying back.

The sky is painted pink and orange, hardly any clouds adorning the blend of colors. He’s spent many days watching the sun come up, but not many watching it set. He decides it’s something he wants to do more often, hopefully with Betty by his side. 

In a movie, this would be the time he would tell her how he feels. He should turn on his side and tell her that he thinks she’s the only thing keeping him sane in their crazy world, and how she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He should slowly grab her hand in his, and they would both secretly smile at the sky.

But it’s real life, and real life comes with uncertainty and insecurity. Betty is so far out of his league. There’s such a small chance that she could be into him as much as he’s into her, that she loves him like he loves her. The only way he could ever possibly know is if he tells her but even the thought of voicing his emotions creates a lump in his throat. 

“Are you going to Archie’s party tomorrow?” Her voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

He nods in confirmation and says, “yes” just in case she didn’t see. Archie has been bugging him for days, asking him if he’ll be attending his celebratory party for getting all B’s this grading period. Jughead isn’t really one for parties, but Archie had the most pleading eyes. 

“Cool. Should be fun.”

“Oh, you’re coming?”  
  
She nods in his peripheral vision. “I think Sweet Pea wanted to go, so he’s dragging me along.”  
  
 _Sweet Pea?_

“Cool.”  
  
He doesn’t want this moment to be ruined. He’s sitting with Betty, the girl he’s practically in love with, under the dimming sky. But now his thoughts are tainted with Betty wrapping her arms around a pea-headed man’s neck.

Unfortunately for him, word got around about Archie’s party, and now there are kegs placed around the house, and a tall tally of broken items that he’s sure Fred Andrews is going to miss.

His head is spinning, vision blurry. He had succumbed to peer pressure tonight, downing many a number of red solo cups that have mysteriously made their way into his hands. He had never seen the appeal of alcohol; why would anyone ever want to feel this out of control? But as he throws another cup back, the bitter liquid scaling the back of his throat, he realizes that it isn’t about feeling out of control. It’s about not feeling at all.

He’s supposed to be forgetting about Betty and her pea friend, but even with the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed, she is still the only thing on his mind. She is always the only thing on his mind. 

Inevitably, he pushes his way through the crowd of people in search of his best friends. They had left him, excusing themselves to use the bathroom (together?) but hadn’t bothered to find him again. His eyes scan the top of the crowd for a bright red head, instead finding blonde. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he tells himself that this is a bad idea. As he makes his way towards Betty, he searches his mind for an ounce of soberness. He’s sad to say he finds nothing. 

“BETTY,” he yells. “IT’S ME! IT’S JUGHEAD!”

She’s in deep conversation with someone and doesn’t hear him over the loud music. The man she’s talking to is muscular, with a large serpent tattoo on his neck. He definitely doesn't have a pea shaped head like Jughead had hoped. 

Jughead bounds over to Betty, vaguely aware of the pounding headache he has. In an attempt to make it stop hurting, he knocks the side of his fist against his head repeatedly. 

“Woah, man.” The guy that Betty was talking to rushes over to him, Betty trailing behind. “Dude, chill.”

“Sweets let me talk to him,” Betty’s soothing voice says as she steps in front of him.

It all comes to him in a wave, like a crash. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t be talking to Betty intoxicated; nothing good will come out of this. 

Betty places a soothing hand on his bicep, but he recoils, taking a step back. He bumps into someone, knocking their drink onto his back, soaking his shirt. 

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Uh, _yeah,_ your bad. Now I have to get another drink!” A petite girl with dark hair complains. He’s never seen her before. Or maybe he has. He’s too drunk to see properly.

“Sorry,” he repeats. His words are slurring, and he can feel Betty’s presence by his side, but he just wants her to leave. He needs to get out of here.

“Jughead, how many drinks have you had?”

His t-shirt is sticking uncomfortably to his back, so instead of answering, he swiftly pulls it off. The cool evening air that’s drafting in from the windows hits his skin, and he shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his body.

“Jughead--”

“Where is Cher? And Ronnie?”  
  
“I’m not sure, but we should--”

“Bettyyyy,” he coos. “You have really pretty eyes.”

He’s not sure if it’s the major body heat from the party or his words, but Betty’s skin turns a bright shade of pink.

“Thanks. Can we go outside?”

He ignores her, turning to her friend who’s watching him, amused. Sober Jughead would be polite and introduce himself, but drunk Jughead doesn’t want anything to do with this smirking, neck tattooed, son of a bitch.

_Whoa._

“Stop smiling.” Jughead pushes a finger into Sweet Pea’s chest forcefully. “You’re not allowed to smile.”

“Dude, you need some bread.”

“I don’t like bread,” Jughead says. “Actually, I love bread. Just not your bread.”

“Coop, is there any water around here?”

_Coop_.

“I don’t need any water,” Jughead insists. “I’m fine. I’m probably more sober than you are, you...unsober person!”

Betty giggles. “Juggie, can I please get you out of here? I can get Sweet Pea to find Cheryl and Veronica.”

He nods hazily, letting Betty pull him out of the room. His eyelids flutter closed, but he forces them open. He sees flashes of colors, bright reds, and yellows. He becomes aware of his headache once again, and he feels it in the tops of his eyelids. 

Betty’s arm is around his waist, resting above the waistline of his jeans, touching his torso. She didn’t appear to be intoxicated, or at least as intoxicated as he is, meaning she would remember tonight. She would remember their skin on skin contact. Subconsciously, he flexes, hoping he worked off the three muffins he had for breakfast that morning during practice. 

She snorts. “Jughead, stop flexing. I’ve seen you inhale more than your weekly calorie count for lunch and _still_ have the same body you do after practice. I really couldn’t care less how many abs you have.”

He should be glad that she’s not sexualizing him, but is it wrong for him to want her to want him?

Maybe now that he’s drunk, he’ll admit that he's thought about Betty at night more than once. She’s not wearing her leather jacket tonight, something that Jughead’s not sure whether he’s happy or sad about. On the plus side, the leather jacket made her look badass, but without it, he can see the creamy skin that she hides underneath. The flowy tank top she’s wearing has thin straps that go low on her back. 

He’s snapped from his thoughts by Veronica's worried voice. “Jughead, what the hell happened?”  
  
“He got hammered,” Betty says with a grimace. 

Cheryl rolls his eyes. “We should really take him out more, Ronnie. He’s such a lightweight.”

Jughead throws himself onto Cheryl, forcing her arms around him. “You’re so mean to me,” he whines. 

“God, you are such a baby. Let’s get you home.”

“No! Not home.”

“I meant the Pembrooke, obviously.”

Veronica turns to Betty. “You can join us if you want? Cher and I were planning on watching a movie and gorging on junk food while this child sleeps.”  
  
Betty laughs, removing her arm from Jughead’s waist. He shivers at the loss. “Sweet Pea’s waiting inside for me, but maybe next time. Tell Jughead to text me when he’s sober?”

Veronica nods. “Of course.”

Raising an arm in a wave, Betty retreats to the Andrews’ house. “Bye!”

Cheryl shifts his weight, beckoning for Veronica to help her. Once he’s settled between them, they lead him to where Veronica’s driver is waiting. 

“Sweet Pea?” Cheryl asks curiously.  
  
Jughead promptly throws up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you thought! i never mind comments. ever.


	3. not a day goes by that i'm not into you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about Betty is that as much as he loves to be around her, it’s so hard for him to be. Everything she does: walking easily down the hallway or a small lick of her lips -- it takes all but a Herculean effort to not bow down at her feet and confess his feelings to her. 
> 
> And that’s not a good idea -- confessing his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little over a month later -- it's here! chapter three! yay!
> 
> thank you, as always, to janet ([easyluckyfree45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyluckyfree45/pseuds/easyluckyfree45)) for being the most wonderful person ever and checking this up for me right away. love you always!
> 
> anddd to lisa, anna and kate for helping me iron out this chapter <3 
> 
> without further ado -- hope you enjoy!

The aftermath of the party is not something Jughead would like to relive. He wakes up on the floor, right next to Veronica's queen bed, head pounding. His vision is tainted with black spots, something which Veronica has informed him is normal for intense hangovers. 

He had never gotten drunk before. He was always content with holding Veronica and Cheryl’s hair back while they took turns emptying their stomachs into the nearest toilet after a long night of partying. He never felt the need to join them. But the thought of Betty and Sweet Pea together had plagued his mind last night, and the solo cups were _right there_. 

Groaning, he sits up from the carpet of Veronica’s bedroom. He can faintly make out his friends’ whispering in the living room, along with a familiar male voice he can’t place. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he reaches for the leg of Veronica’s bedpost, using it to lift himself up. He wanders to the bathroom, washing his face and swallowing a freakish amount of mouthwash. Walking back out to the bedroom, he notices the vague smell of overpowering aftershave wafting in from the living room. 

_Archie._

He quickly walks to the door separating Veronica’s bedroom from the living room, before catching sight of himself in her full-length mirror. 

_Jesus_ , he looks horrible. The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than usual, his hair untamed.

“...Fangs,” Archie says as he walks into the living room. “Does Jughead know?”

“Know what?” Jughead asks, announcing his presence. Veronica holds out a cup of coffee from Pop’s and a donut, sending him a soft smile. She’s sitting on the couch beside Cheryl, who appraises him with a smirk.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” she asks, amused.

He flips his middle finger up, turning away from her. Unfortunately, this means he’s now facing Archie, who is leaning casually on the kitchen counter. He doesn’t bother holding in his laugh, cackling at the sight of Jughead’s unkempt appearance.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greets happily. Really, Archie doesn’t have the right to be laughing at him; he’s been twice as drunk on many more occasions.

“Mmm, you too.” He takes a bite out of his donut. “Is this cinnamon?”

Veronica nods. “Yeah, Pop gave them to me, on the house.”

“That man is an angel. An _angel_ ,” he says as he removes the lid off his coffee cup. He dips the end of his donut in before taking a bite out of it. He lets out an ill-mannered moan, and Archie whacks him on the back of his head. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Jughead asks while taking another bite out of his donut, sans coffee. 

“Wanted to make sure you were doing okay,” he replies. 

“I’m not,” Jughead says seriously. “I knew hangovers came with headaches, but this is too much.”

“They’re the worst,” Archie agrees. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Jughead raises an eyebrow questioning

“I’m talking about Betty…?” Archie prompts. 

“Betty? We’re fine. We’re cool. All good.” Jughead looks up at him suddenly. “Why? Did she say something?”

Archie barks out a laugh. “See _this_ , this is exactly what I’m talking about. Reggie owes me 20 bucks -- you like her!”

“I do not,” Jughead argues feebly. 

“Right. But if you did, then I would tell you that she asked me to tell you to text her before I left the house this morning.”

Jughead winces, massaging his forehead with his hands. “I have no idea what you just said.” His headache hurts more and more by the moment. 

“She wants you to text her,” Archie simplifies. 

“Betty?”

“Yes, Betty. Geez, Jug, how much did you drink last night?”

“He barely drank,” Cheryl chimes in. “He’s just a lightweight.”

“My head hurts too much to talk to you, Cheryl. Could you shut up?”

She scoffs, turning back to Veronica. 

“I should get going,” Archie says. “I think Val is waiting for me at Pop’s.”

“Didn’t you two break up?” Veronica asks.

“Oh shit,” Archie says. “You’re right, we did. I meant Munroe.” He rushes out the door, grabbing his letterman jacket from the coat rack on his way out. 

“That boy is a mess.” Veronica laughs.

Cheryl nods sagely. “Someday he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“He means well,” Jughead says. “At least, I think he does.”

“Enough about Archie,” Veronica dismisses, turning to him fully. “We need to talk about you, Jug. And the hot mess that was last night.”

Jughead groans. “Do we have to?”

“Yes! Why wasn’t I made aware that you were so into Betty?”

“I told you I liked her,” Jughead counters.

“Oh Jug, babe, you don’t just _like_ her. That is some true love shit,” Cheryl says, inspecting her nails.

Jughead blushes. “I don’t- You don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Right,” Veronica says, rising from where she had moved onto Cheryl’s lap. “Of course not. What was I thinking- You? In love with Betty Cooper? Not in this world.”

“Exactly,” Jughead confirms, lying through his teeth. “Now that this conversation is over, can I please get back into bed?”

“We have school today,” Cheryl says. 

“What?” Jughead asks aghast. “It’s Monday?”

“Unfortunately.”

Betty isn’t at school. She wasn’t in first period English, according to Veronica, nor in Math or French. She didn’t show up to lunch, either; not that this was abnormal, but she usually grabbed a snack in the cafeteria before making her way to the Blue and Gold. She wasn’t there either.

“Should I call her?” Jughead asks, pacing the Blue and Gold floors. He hasn’t bothered trying to work on the paper today; he can’t get anything done without Betty anyways.

“Go for it,” Cheryl answers lazily, propping her feet up on Veronica’s lap. 

Jughead dragged them both along in his search for Betty. After scouring the whole school, they had ended at the newspaper office in hopes she had lost track of time going through papers. 

“Is that too desperate, though? I mean, after last night, _I_ wouldn’t want me to call me.”

“So I see the Advil helped,” Veronica comments. 

He glares at her and pulls out his phone, nervously pressing the small buttons along the side. 

“What if she’s just avoiding me?” he voices his thoughts out loud. “I don’t fully remember last night but if it was as bad as you guys say it was, then I don’t blame her.”

“Oh, Jug.” Veronica stands up from her perch on one of the tables, letting Cheryl’s long legs drop to the floor. She walks to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Don’t go there.”

“I’m already there!” he exclaims exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m so far past there- _there_ is like, a small speck in the distance!”

“Have you ever thought about joining the theatre?” 

“I’m serious! It’s already so unlikely that she could like me, but now I’ve just made a fool of myself.” Jughead deflates. “God, where _is_ she?”

Veronica and Cheryl exchange a fleeting look, affirming both of their thoughts. “Why don’t we do something to take your mind off things?” Veronica asks. 

He perks his head up. “We’re in school?”

Cheryl shrugs. “We know all this already,” she says. “Let’s ditch.”

Jughead grins, throwing an arm around Veronica’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

It’s early November during work hours, so Riverdale Farms isn’t too packed. Jughead cuts the ignition on his truck and hops out, coming around the sides to open the door for Veronica and Cheryl.

“Ugh, why on Earth did we come to a _farm_?” Cheryl exclaims, picking her leg up and examining the bottom of her boot. “Couldn’t we have gone to a spa?”

“Actually, I wouldn’t have minded a spa,” Jughead muses. “I can feel a pimple about to flourish.”

“Maybe your skin would be better if you didn’t eat like you did,” Cheryl shoots back aggressively. She links her arm through his, looking over to Veronica who is texting speedily on her phone. “Babe, who are you texting?”

“No one,” Veronica says quickly, pocketing her phone. 

Jughead eyes her suspiciously but lets Veronica take his other arm. He leads them into the farm excitedly. 

Riverdale Farms has always been one of his favorite places in their small town. He used to come here all the time with Betty, before she disappeared on him. They would pick blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries while talking a mile a minute about anything and everything. This place holds some of his fondest childhood memories.

“What are we picking?” Cheryl asks, eyeing the rows and rows of tall vines and bushes. “Apples? I would love some Honeycrisps for Thornhill.”

Jughead nods. “I’m gonna grab some Granny Smith’s. I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

Cheryl raises an eyebrow, joining her fingers with Veronica’s. “Will you be okay alone?”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “You two need to check yourselves sometimes, you’re _not_ my moms,” he snarks. 

Veronica tilts her head at him, appraising him with a look he knows all too well means, _really?_

“I’m _fine_! Just need to think a bit. Alone.”

They size him up once more, before turning towards the sweet apples. He watches their retreating forms until he’s sure they’re not going to turn back, then heads to the Granny Smith’s.

He wasn’t lying, he did want time alone to think. And, yes, the Granny Smith’s had always been his and Betty’s favorite fruits to pick. Something about the sweet tanginess just made them both fall in love with the fruit. 

He wanders through the maze of trees, occasionally plucking a green apple off its stem and popping it in his basket. He’s about to turn back and find Veronica and Cheryl again when he sees a flash of blonde hair through the branches. 

No. Way.

Cautiously, he walks towards where he _maybepossiblyspottedBetty_ , ducking under the low branches. He hears a low rustle, then a muffled curse. 

“Betty?”

She looks up from where she’s planted on the ground. “Jug? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Shouldn’t you?” he fires back. As soon as the words come out of his mouth he regrets them. Are they at that point of friendship where you can be mean as a joke? He’s not sure.

But he relaxes when she laughs, shaking her head. “No, Jug. There’s no point for me. I’m hopeless. And now I’ve gone and hurt my ankle -- can you help me up?”

He reaches a hand down, the one that’s not carrying his basket of apples. She grasps it, not waiting for him to help her, and hauls herself up. She lets go of him, steadying herself, then swiftly collapses on him. 

“Betty, you can’t stand,” he says. 

“Thank you, Jug, I wasn’t aware.”

He feels his face heat up, aware of how close they are. She rights herself against him so she has an arm around his shoulders. Her hair is touching his collarbone and he can feel the scratch of her leather against his wool.

He’s going to die.

“Are those Granny Smith’s?” she asks, pointing to the green apples he’s holding steadily.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You still like them?”

Betty nods. “Of course. They were our favorite when we were younger.”

He motions with his head to the pile in his basket. “Do you- do you want one?”

“Now?” she asks. “Sure, I guess.”

He removes the topmost apple, mentally slapping himself upside the head. He did not think this through. Is he just going to feed it to her? Let her bite into it?

As if she can read his mind, she nudges his ribs gently. “I’ve got a knife in my back pocket you can cut it with.”

He blinks rapidly in shock. “A _knife_?”

She grins. “Of course. Do you not carry a knife around with you, Jug?”

He says nothing.

“Oh for fucks sake. Reach into my pocket and grab the knife unless you want to feed it to me bite by bite,” she says in exasperation. 

He snaps out of his state and reaches across their bodies. His hands wander awkwardly, not wanting to accidentally go too far. Eventually, he finds the pocket. Gingerly, he slips two fingers in, feeling around for the knife.

“Uh, Betty, I don't think you have a knife in here.”

“I do, Jug, I feel it. It’s at the bottom.”

“Christ,” he whispers, pushing his fingers deeper. His middle finger hits on something metal and Betty squirms against him. He reaches around the small piece, slowly tugging his fingers upwards. Finally, _finally,_ the knife is brought into the light. It’s small, and black, with little carvings engraved on the shiny metal. His thumb absentmindedly strokes the rough texture. It’s very _Betty_. 

“Give me the apple,” Betty says, pulling him from his thoughts. She hasn’t yet shifted away from him, so they’re still standing together, awkwardly entwined in the middle of rows of Granny Smith trees. Their smell is enticing, and he’s just aching to reach for one and bite hungrily into it. Alas, he has Betty Cooper wrapped around him, and really, it’s not a competition.

He hands her the apple that he's still clutching in his other hand, then watches, captivated, as she angles the knife in the apple and cuts skillfully. 

It’s almost unbearably attractive.

The thing about Betty is that as much as he loves to be around her, it’s so hard for him to be. Everything she does: walking easily down the hallway or a small lick of her lips -- it takes all but a Herculean effort to not bow down at her feet and confess his feelings to her. 

And that’s not a good idea -- confessing his feelings. 

“Could you, uh, put it in my mouth?”

 _Jesus._ He chokes on his own saliva. “What?”

“I don’t have any free hands.” She gestures with her head to her current position. “Just drop it in my mouth.”

He eyes the piece of apple in her hands, taking it from her. “Open up, I guess.”

She tilts her head up, opening her mouth wide. Her tongue is slightly hanging out of her mouth and- Fuck, this isn’t fair. 

He’s so much more than just blushing at this point. As soon as Betty had attached herself to him, he was _blushing_ . When his hand reached into her ass pocket he was _blushing_. This, though-

This is like, porn level stuff.

Or so he thinks. He doesn’t really watch porn. Veronica and Cheryl have tried to get him into it once, but it was weird once they settled down next to him. On his own, he’s never really felt the need to watch any...adult films. Besides, Veronica and Cheryl’s feminist beliefs have rubbed off on him, and he much rather prefers softcore anyways. The intimacy of it does something to him.

He takes a deep breath, clearing his head of any near unholy thoughts, then drops the apple into her mouth. 

She smiles widely, chewing and swallowing before saying, “Those are just as good as I remembered them.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. She’s looking up at him and he swears he sees her eyes flicker down to his lips.

If they hadn’t been interrupted, he might have kissed her. 

Thank goodness for Cheryl and Veronica.

“Well, what do we have here?” Veronica asks slyly, pushing through the branches. Both her and Cheryl’s forearms are laden with paper bags full of sweet-smelling things. 

"Betty fell,” he says dumbly.

“And I hurt my ankle,” Betty adds on. “He’s just being a sweetheart, per usual.”

Cheryl raises her eyebrows. “Mhm,” she murmurs. “Interesting indeed.”

“Hey, can we get out of here? Find a table or something outside?” Veronica asks, swatting flies away from her face. 

“That would be amazing,” Betty says. 

“Can you stand?” Cheryl asks. 

“Oh,” Betty says, separating herself from him. She stands on her foot warily, testing it. “Yeah, I’m all good now.”

Cheryl looks at him with an unreadable expression on her face. He tilts his head questioningly, but she just shakes her own in response. He rolls his eyes, turning back to Betty. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks.

She nods. “I’m fine, Jughead.”

He doesn’t believe her -- she was _just_ holding on to him ever so tightly -- but decides to drop it, taking two bags from Veronica and Cheryl’s arms. 

“Shall we get going?”

They find a table near the entrance. After paying for his apples, Jughead squeezes some of Veronica’s sparkly Bath and Body Works hand sanitizer on his hands, then practically rips the box of the apple pie open and digs in. 

“Shit,” he moans. “This is amazing.”

The girls around him regard him with disgusted expressions. 

“Here, try some,” he offers through a mouthful of crust. He pushes the plate forwards, but Cheryl slides it back.

“We’ll try some of the blueberry later,” she says. “We don’t want your saliva in our mouths.”

He wishes he missed Veronica’s sidelong glance in Betty’s direction. Especially because Betty doesn’t glance back.

He should be enjoying this moment. Instead of at school, he’s at a farm, with his best friends and the girl of his dreams. But there are those underlying thoughts, fears, doubts, that keep plaguing his mind and he can’t for the life of him seem to get rid of them.

Because what if Betty likes Sweet Pea? What if Sweet Pea likes Betty? What if Cheryl is right and he should just buck up and ask her out? What if she says yes? What if she likes him back?

That last one is the most terrifying of them all.

For all the time he’s spent dreaming of Betty Cooper, and being with Betty Cooper, he has never managed to wrap his head around the thought that she could ever like him back. And if she did, then what? Would they go out on dates? Hold hands across the table at Pop’s and sip the same milkshake from different straws? Would they hold hands in the hallway, or would Betty want to keep them a secret? After all, she does have a reputation.

He shakes those thoughts from his head. What is he doing? This is Betty. Betty who baked him brownies weekly just because. Betty who plucked flowers from the elementary school garden for his mother’s birthday. Betty doesn’t have a reputation, at least not to him.

In front of him, Betty and Veronica are talking animatedly about a topic he’s not paying attention to. He can feel Cheryl’s stare boring into the side of his head. 

He turns to her. “Stop gawking at me.”

“I’m not,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replies shortly. He loves Cheryl dearly, but she has no sense of time and place. They can talk about this later, alone, at the Pembrooke. Not with Betty across from them.

“I know about the apples,” she says. 

“What? How?”

“I read your diary a couple of years ago,” she admits. “But it was out of love. I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats. “I’m always fine.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you, J.”

“Love you too, Cher.”

**Author's Note:**

> so! here's what's up:
> 
> i know a bare minimum about cheerleading, and anything i do know is from my gymnastics years when I was younger. If i write anything wrong in this story LET ME KNOW and i'll fix it up right away.
> 
> i apologize for any awkward line spacing, i did my best, but transferring to ao3 always screws things up.


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